This Gentle Earth
by adastrad
Summary: Hawks buys a better excuse to keep visiting Musutafu, but damn it. Enji hadn't been looking to adopt.


Hawks requested to patrol together every time he was in town. He came to Musutafu often, Enji found.

"Oh, just another business trip," Hawks always waved it off with a laugh.

Enji knew what that was code for.

_Investigation._

Enji was a better hero than to probe for details about a case in progress from a colleague. Cases were confidential, mostly, unless advice was specifically solicited. Probably whatever criminal Hawks kept tracking had some kind of Kyushu connection. But it'd better _not_ be that nomu business again. Enji had _told_ Hawks to find someone to partner up with him about that, and partnering up didn't mean on-and-off joint patrols without so much as a single strategy meeting beforehand. Because Hawks didn't talk about nomu. No, lately he had a one track mind for a single subject, and, striding along beside this chatterbox, Enji decided he was getting tired of hearing about Hawks' hometown.

Fukuoka _this_, Fukuoka _that_.

What was so great about it anyway? It was almost like Hawks was intent on finagling him down south again with the promise of pleasure, maybe, instead of pain. The very idea had the flames on Enji's face flaring hotter. He'd said already, for god's sake. That nomu attack had had nothing to do with him! They'd been there to fight one and they'd fought one. It wasn't Hawks' fault, so he could damn well stop trying to make up for the experience – or whatever else fool idea he'd got into his head.

The irritation was enough to make Enji snap.

"Why the hell aren't you in _Fukuoka_ if you love it so much?"

The words snarled out of him before he could stop them. And for one second – just one split second – Enji thought Hawks looked stricken. Then Enji blinked and whatever he thought he might've seen was gone. He'd had his left eye to Hawks anyway. It was less reliable, that one, these days.

"Oh, you know, Endeavor-san," Hawks drawled, lowering his visor so he could stare Enji dead in the eye unobstructed when he _winked_. "There are cool people everywhere."

...It bothered Enji that he couldn't tell if Hawks were actually the slightest bit offended. It would be just like him, though, to retaliate with a compliment – the very one Enji never knew what to do with. Enji wasn't stupid, though. He knew the satire Hawks had hidden here, calling a known hothead _cool_. So Enji tried again, because he was always doing this. Letting his temper choose the words instead of his head.

"I've never met another hero who takes as many _business trips_ as you."

"Ah..."

Hawks' gaze slithered away from his then. Enji didn't know why that observation over any other had silenced him. He couldn't actually be _embarrassed_ about how long it was taking him to take down his villain, could he? But no – his plumage was still sleek and smooth. It gave him away sometimes, but it wasn't doing anything interesting now.

Almost as if he could feel Enji's scrutiny, Hawks' wings stretched to their full, impressive span. His hands went up next, palms straining toward the sky. Though his face was still turned away, Enji could see the glint of eyes on fire as if there were something glorious to behold above them that wasn't drab and dreary winter grey.

"Well, when you've got wings," Hawks said, stuck in that pose until he let his arms sweep down into a bow with the grace of a maestro, "the world is your oyster."

Enji scoffed. He knew what Hawks meant with that needless flair for dramatics of his, but it still had to be one of the most nonsensical things he'd heard him say. With the way he scarfed down anything with even a whiff of chicken, Enji doubted he'd ever eaten oysters. Yet when he said as much, Hawks went ramrod straight and his heavy-lidded eyes nearly boggled right out of his head.

"Endeavor-san! You really _don't_ know anything about Fukuoka Prefecture, do you? Oysters are our winter specialty! But hey, have you ever been to an oyster hut? I think you'd really like it. I bet it wouldn't bother you either, getting hit with boiling seawater when they burst open on the barbecue."

The way he paused after that, examining Enji from head to toe as if appraising the safety of that wager... It didn't match the relative innocence of his words at all. That was Hawks, though. One giant, impossible contradiction packed into his wiry, little frame. One Enji had been wrong about, apparently. And now he had to live with the imagery of Hawks slurping down hot oysters.

"You're really selling it," Enji bit out. There was only one reason he'd worked up a good frustration, of course. Being blasted with boiling seawater didn't sound appealing in the least.

Hawks' cheeky response – and Enji just _knew_ he'd had one ready – was lost with an abrupt jerk of his head. The feathers at his back quivered in the stillness.

A scream rang out an instant later.

Wordless now, they went to work.

.

.

.

After an hour and a half spent subduing three separate villains, Enji stepped into the city square alone.

Hawks was up in the air somewhere. He'd usually take to the sky at some point on these patrols. Unless they ran into more trouble, Enji wouldn't see much of him until—

He alighted next to Enji with a whoosh of wing that set Hellflame dancing. The landing was so hard, Hawks ended up crouching almost at Enji's feet.

"Endeavor-san," he said in grim pronouncement, tone so akin to how he'd sounded right before the nomu attacked that Enji went on high alert.

For no good reason.

Because though a voice began to bellow loud enough to be heard clear across the square, what it said—

"SUCCULENTS!"

—wasn't dangerous at all.

"IT'S _SUCCULENT_ SEASON!"

Enji opened his mouth to spew out hot vitriol about false alarms, but he never got the chance. Hawks had already launched himself back into the air with the force of a sprinter coming off the blocks.

"COME GET YOURSELF A CUTE, LITTLE SUCCULENT!"

Enji nearly swore. Hawks was _not_ about to heed that command!

Except that he _was._

He soared over the crowd almost low enough to touch – and some people were actually grinning up and trying. He returned to earth in front of a long table hemmed in by a legion of sellers in puffy black winter coats. Immediately Hawks was surrounded too – with a surge of fans.

Enji began the long march over. People parted for him like a sea. He was used to that – used to the unease that came with it. Unused to how it had eased off since Hawks had become a feature in his life. Or a bug. Definitely a bug with his obnoxious laughter and the intent way he looked his well-wishers in the eye as he chatted with them and effortlessly posed for pictures and signed all manner of clothing.

Enji crossed his arms as he stepped up behind Hawks, just out of range of the wings. The schoolgirl who'd bared her throat to let him sign the collar of her blazer went redder the longer Enji glared down at her. As soon as Hawks added the star that was the final flourish of his autograph, she stuttered out her thanks and flounced away.

"Endeavor-san, you made it," Hawks said without turning around. The words weren't mocking, though there was a time Enji would have found them so. For better or worse, he knew Hawks now and knew he had to drag him away from this impromptu bazaar before things got out of hand.

"We should get moving," he insisted at the same time Hawks gestured at the table laden with thick-leafed plants of various shapes and sizes and said, "Which one do you think I should get?"

Too late.

But Endeavor wasn't his name for nothing. Let no one ever say he hadn't put in a real effort to prevent this.

"Hawks, you cannot _buy_ a _succulent._"

The attempted restriction affected him not at all.

Hawks surveyed the selection with resolve. He skipped a few paces down the table, waving off a merchant's suggestion, and studied the ones there too. They were arranged on a tiered wooden stand, large to small. Enji hounded after him, waiting for his answer. When Hawks finally deigned to reply, he uttered just one flippant, distracted word.

"Why?"

Oh, this _boy._ Acting as if he didn't know!

"We are on _patrol._"

"This is the end of our route. We're wrapping it up here." He picked out one of the damn things and held it up for Enji to see. "Anyway, do you like this one?"

Did he _like_ that one? What kind of question was that? Enji had already made his position clear. At this rate, Hawks was doing this by design purely to antagonize him. It was working too, just seeing Hawks standing there, gazing up at him with smiling eyes of outlined amber, pink-cheeked from the chill, his nose tucked into the fur trimming his coat. The breeze teased the tufts of his spun gold hair as he balanced a miniature potted plant on his palm.

Enji had to glance away.

"We're still on the clock."

They would be until they got back to Enji's office. They should be working still. Not... not _this._

"You think," Hawks began and oh _no_, the little _bastard_. His voice was getting louder and catching the attention of the closest civilians. "I can't fight crime and hold a plant at the same time?"

Enji fought down his own quirk for the second time that day. He'd never cared to appeal to an audience and he liked it least when Hawks put him on the spot. What the hell was he supposed to do? Enji couldn't fault the skill and power of the number two hero. He was well aware Hawks could handle both. He'd never prioritize vegetation over public safety either, but to permit this and let him have his way...

Enji caught the anticipation on the faces of the crowd, waiting on his words with bated breath.

_"Just watch me."_

_He'd_ said that. Now they were, and he knew what they all wanted him to say. The Top Two patrolling together, being seen side-by-side, merely _getting along_ – it was all the rage these days.

_...Fine._

Enji would give in to Hawks' preferred methodology. He'd allow him to hide his ferocity under veils of unconcern and effortlessness. If he wanted to play pretend like he'd already achieved that impossible dream of his, let him. It would be to the villains' peril to assume a hawk ever came off the prowl. And if, in the meantime, this absurd little thing would make Hawks happy, then...

"You can do as you like," Enji said at last.

Excited whispers broke out around them. The flashes of cameras, the flashes of grins.

Enji had eyes for only one smile, the corners of it peeking just over the top of a high-collared coat. He knew the word that came to mind at the sight of that. He'd thought it earlier without wanting to. It was the same one that had arrested him so suddenly in that restaurant down in _Fukuoka_. The same one that made him sure he shouldn't go back.

_Cute... _

It shouldn't even be in Enji's vocabulary, but how else was he to describe the way Hawks jammed one questing hand into his coat pocket after he was told what his succulent would cost him? How he held aloft his coin in triumph once he finally dug it out? He flicked his five hundred yen to the plant vendor. It flipped end over end, flashing dully in the sparse sunlight, until it was snatched from the air with a nod of gratitude.

When they finally meandered away, Hawks clutched his purchase with both hands. The satisfaction almost oozed off him. It only got worse when, right at the edge of the square, right as they were about to head back into the streets, Hawks tripped up a would-be mugger with his feathers. He hadn't needed to lift a single finger. He hadn't even needed to stop walking. He returned a purse to a grateful grandmother and kept the offender pinned until a fast-approaching police officer took charge. He'd kept one smug eyebrow raised at Enji the entire time.

The show off.

"I didn't know you were fond of plants," Enji griped as they turned at last toward their home base. Enji's home base. Whatever. Hawks was there often enough one secretary had started a fast-filling file for him to help process his paperwork.

"I'm not Kamui-san, but I like a bit of greenery. Maybe if you came to—"

Enji interrupted, walking faster, "You know you can't take that thing on the train."

Behind him Hawks burst out laughing like he was fit to bust a gut.

"Oh! Oh, Endeavor-san!" He voice was thick with merriment. "I'm _not_ taking it on the train."

Enji didn't _appreciate_ being laughed at. If Hawks wasn't taking transit, there was only one other option and it was a joke more than anything else.

"What? You're going to _fly_ it down there?"

Ha! _That_ was funny – imagining Hawks carting a pot through the air all that long way.

Hawks didn't rise to the bait. He rarely ever did. Instead, Enji almost didn't hear it when it came, the soft murmur of his reply.

"You'll see."

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.

.

Enji kept a chair on only his side of the desk as a basic strategy of establishing authority. He could unseat any visitor by never even offering them a seat in the first place. The rare situation requiring comparable respect or, god forbid, _deference_ was what the couches were for. Yet it was Enji who felt he needed to sit down all over again when Hawks, never minding being made to stand, plopped the prize he'd just _had_ to have down in the middle of the work surface.

"Here you are," he said and scooted the flimsy container overflowing with tiny leaves so close to Enji it was almost bumping into his hands. "It's for you."

Enji felt the first simmerings of anger hot beneath his skin. That whole performance Hawks had pulled and he hadn't even wanted this wretched thing for himself? Well, Enji wouldn't put up with this. He plucked it up and put it right back in front of Hawks.

"Endeavor-san..." Hawks breathed out a laugh. His fingers curled around the succulent again like it were a hot drink. Like it were in any way capable of imparting warmth or affection. "Please take it."

He tried to slide it over a second time, but Enji blocked it with a raised palm.

"Hawks, I don't _want_ that thing. Get it _off_ my desk."

"But don't you see now?" Hawks didn't press the plant on him again. Instead, he wandered with it to the edge of the desk – the edge closest to the window. He set it with care in the corner farthest out of Enji's reach and began his appeal. "You were right, before. About my... business trips. I can't make them forever. Since you won't come down to Fukuoka again, this way I've got a good excuse to fly back up here. I'll have to check that it's okay."

It was on the tip of Enji's tongue to tell Hawks he didn't need an _excuse_ to stop by – what happened to the world being his _oyster_, huh? – but the words stuck in his throat. Hawks had adjusted the container so the largest, cheeriest rosette was turned Enji's way. He bent forward to examine it closer, his face only a spare hairs width away, red wings framing the whole thing like a picture.

"Anyway, it's cute, right?"

It was wrong. All _wrong_. That plant wasn't 'cute.' _Neither_ of them were!

"_You_ wanted that. _You_ bought that. It's _yours._ So take it and _get out._"

Hawks straightened and had the audacity to put his hands on his hips. "Hey, now. You have a stake too. I adopted it under your supervision. You already said yourself I can't take it on the train so I'm just doing the logical thing and giving you full custody. Really, all I'm asking for is occasional visitation rights."

Enji closed his eyes in a futile effort to dispel the frustration threatening to boil over from Hawks' quixotic change of tactics.

"It's not a _child_, Hawks!"

As if he hadn't heard him, or probably because he had, Hawks went on, "Make sure to break the news to Shoto-kun gently. I know it'll be hard on him when he realizes he's not the baby anymore."

"_Hawks._"

"At the very least, just keep it alive, Endeavor-san."

The turn to sobriety was so unexpected it had Enji looking up again. Hawks had stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his uniform trousers. His wings drooped. His face was blank, devoid of expression. A plant alone couldn't cause a reaction like that. Hawks must have meant something else by it, saying that. He joked that way sometimes. He preferred those with their own private punch lines. The kind that didn't out immediately. Or ever. This whole thing with the plant was a perfect example, except.

Enji didn't think Hawks was joking now.

As he searched for the source of the melancholy, it hit Enji what exactly Hawks was attempting to give him. A succulent. Hardy things they were – the type of plant built to withstand extreme conditions. They'd endure even the harshest treatment and the cruelest neglect. They'd survive. They'd thrive off it. They'd go on and on and on.

Entirely unlike the flower Enji renewed weekly for Rei.

Hawks didn't know about any of that, though. Enji had never told him. He didn't know how he would. If he should. ...If he could. Hawks might leave. He might not come back.

Almost as if he'd heard that unspoken fear, Hawks seemed to switch back on.

"Oh, wow, would you look at the time?" He directed the query at his gloved and watchless wrist. "I've got places to be. You know how it is."

He gave the pot a last pat and then was off and out the door before Enji could say anything. He'd just sat there and let him disappear.

The silence hadn't set in yet when the office door rattled open again. It was Hawks, back already. He leaned into the room, hanging from the doorframe by one hand. Even from a distance, the mischief on his face was downright dangerous. Whatever was about to come out of his mouth couldn't be anything good.

"By the way, I'll leave the naming of it up to you. ...Oyaji."

Enji slammed his hands down on his desk, standing with a roar. The blaze erupted all around him. How _dare_ Hawks call him that, call him the same rude, rebellious thing Shoto used for "_father_"! Enji lived the fury of it, let it burn until it burned itself out.

When he came back to himself a minute later, breathing hard, Hawks was gone again. Truly gone. Enji hadn't even heard him go. He'd taken all his infuriating liveliness with him. Without it, the dim corners of the vast office felt darker. Blacker.

Enji couldn't just sit back down. He felt the itch to move.

He went searching for it. There was always at least one. And yes – there. Halfway underneath the couch nearest the door was a discarded feather. It must have fallen free as Hawks had left to flutter all the way down there. Enji returned with it to his desk and tossed it into the bottom-most drawer with the rest of his growing collection. There were other things from Hawks in there too. Things he'd either forgotten or purposefully placed on Enji's desk.

A grey-black pebble of perfect roundness.

A seashell bleached white from the sun.

A shard of glass of dusty stoplight green, tumbled smooth by ocean waves.

A holographic ticket stub to some museum exhibit.

Enji had asked him about the last one. Hawks hadn't seemed the type for something like that. Had he enjoyed it? Oh, he'd admitted. He hadn't been. He'd just found the bit of paper lying around. It had caught his eye, he explained, picking it up and moving it back and forth so it sparkled, because "see, it's shiny. But, hey, Endeavor-san. Are you interested? They've still got it up at the Fukuoka Science Museum. We could go together—"

No, no, _no._

All of it just another ploy. All of it actual, literal trash. Trinkets. ...Tokens. All of it he'd kept. Now this latest one... Enji sighed. Should he really have been surprised, even if Hawks had never been so overt before? Never presented anything so directly? Enji rolled his desk drawer shut with a click of finality and went to grab it – Hawks' latest gift.

Hawks hadn't just put it out of reach, he'd barricaded it beside a stack of paperwork – none of which, Enji noted with annoyance, had been filled out. They were supposed to have debriefed, damn it. Hawks had managed to escape and leave it all to Enji – not for the first time. Well, if it meant not having to deal with that barely legible chicken scratch Hawks called handwriting, it was for the best. Enji hadn't even recognized the kanji of his name the one time he'd witnessed him scrawl it out. Hawks had spirited that page away before Enji could get a better look.

The succulent would have to surrender to it, however, the full weight of Enji's inspection, even if hefting it to eye level proved it was weightless. There were three rosettes large only by comparison. Enji could have fit them all comfortably in a single hand. They sprouted out of the packed-in soil from some kind of stalk. The leaves were thick as coins and had a waxy look. They spiraled out in concentric rows. Quite symmetrical. They were a good shade, too. The faded jade reminded Enji of fine celadon porcelain. The rest of the rosettes were scaled-down versions of their larger brethren – no bigger than thumb nails. They dangled in artful disarray down the sides of the pot on stems as thin as angel hair pasta.

Overall, Enji supposed, it wasn't unattractive.

Still... he couldn't help but be reminded again of the other plant in his life. That one was a promise. That one meant, "I haven't forgotten you." Enji would do his best for Rei, whatever that might mean for however long it might take. He owed her that after everything he'd done.

So what kind of commitment was this succulent supposed to represent? What kind of promise?

_Keep it alive._

Enji wouldn't have to do much to accomplish that. Just... enough. The thought of doing only the bare minimum rankled. That Hawks would be willing to quietly accept it made Enji feel an odd... _pang_ in his chest. He'd... he'd take an antacid for that later.

For now, Enji swiped up the unbegun mission reports in his free hand. He dropped them before his chair. The tiny pot took up no space at all in its new residence in the circle of lamplight by Enji's right hand. He sat, opened a folder, and stared instead at the succulent.

Why had Hawks been so somber asking him to care for it? Enji burned to ask. That moment would needle at him, but he knew needling Hawks about it wouldn't end well. No, trying to lecture him ended with succulents on Enji's desk and being called _old man_ like he was this thing's _father_. What the hell would that even make Hawks, huh? _He'd_ bought it! ...If Hawks ever tried that name on him again, Enji swore, he'd... he'd—!

...Because _names—!_

What kind of idiot did Hawks think Enji was anyway?

He swiveled around in his chair and yanked his laptop toward him.

_Name_ a succulent?

His fingers raged molten across the keys, pecking out the address to a site he'd used four times in the past.

_Ridiculous. _

He scrolled through the long list of characters until he hit on a likely target. Clicked into it and scrolled and scrolled again until the perfect knock-out combination revealed itself.

_Preposterous. _

He tore open the top drawer on his left, took out a notecard, and took up his fountain pen from its stand.

It'd be a complete and utter _farce._

Keep it alive! Hn! Maybe that was the joke. That Endeavor issued a challenge could ever be satisfied doing so little. This succulent would flourish if it were the last thing Enji ever did.

He put his pen away. The notecard he folded in half so it would stand on its own. It was still almost larger than the little pot was tall. On the stiff white of its surface, the slashes of the kanji strokes gaped like open wounds. If attaching a photograph to an instant message could be an act of war, Enji made it so. It was what he'd been driven to.

He violently jabbed send.

Hawks' response was almost immediate: a wall of hearts in various shapes and colors. ...Acceptable. The one with the ribbon was particularly apt. Enji would have to ask Fuyumi if she had any she could spare as hand-me-downs. But first... he cast a critical eye over the disgusting, cheap plastic container those fools from the city square had forced the poor succulent into. It would have to go. Enji would not have this— his— _their_—

Chihiro would not disgrace herself.

* * *

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Chihiro = 地優 = "earth gentleness/superiority"


End file.
